BR 
123 
J6 
1904 

SRLF 


LIBRARY 

University  of  California 
IRVINF 


The  Innumerable  Company 


The 


Innumerable  Company 


David  Starr  Jordan 

President  of  Leland  Stanford  Jr.  University 


Boston 
American  Unitarian  Association 

25  Beacon  Street 


Copyright  1896 
David  Starr  Jordan 

Copyright  1904 
American  Unitarian  Association 


The  University  Press,  Cambridge,  U.  S.  A. 


To  my  Wife 
Jessie  Knight  Jordan 


"When  man  shall  rise  to  manhood's  destiny, 
"When  our  slow-toddling  race  shall  be  full  grown, 
Deep  in  each  human  heart  a  chamber  lone 
Of  holies,  holiest  shall  builded  be, 
And  each  man  for  himself  must  hold  the  key. 
Each  man  must  kindle  his  own  altar  fires, 
Each  burn  an  offering  of  his  own  desires, 
And  each,  at  last,  his  own  High  Priest  shall  be! 


THERE  was  once  a  great  mountain 
which  rose  from  the  shore  of  the 
sea,  and  on  its  flanks  it  bore  a 
mighty  forest.  The  slopes  of  the  moun- 
tain were  green  with  soft  grass  and  white 
and  rosy  with  the  flowers  of  spring.  But 
beyond  the  crest  the  mountain  grew 
harsh  and  wild,  then  ridges  and  gullies, 
peaks  and  chasms,  springs  and  torrents. 
Farther  on  lay  a  sandy  desert,  which 
stretched  its  monotonous  breadth  to  the 
shore  of  a  wide,  swift  river.  What  lay 
beyond  the  river  no  one  knew,  because 
its  shores  were  always  hid  in  azure 
mist. 

Year  by  year  there  came  up  from  the 
shore  of  the  sea  an  innumerable  company 
of  men  and  women.  Each  one  must 
hasten  over  the  green  meadows  to  cross 
the  mountain  and  the  forest,  faring  onward 
toward  the  desert  and  the  river.  And  this 
was  one  condition  of  the  journey,  —  that 
whosoever  came  to  the  river  must  breast 
its  waters  alone.  Why  this  was  so,  no  one 
could  tell ;  nor  did  any  one  know  aught  of 
the  land  beyond.  For  of  the  multitude 


who  had  crossed  the  river  not  one  had 
ever  returned. 

As  time  went  on,  there  came  to  be  paths 
through  the  forest.  Through  its  meadows 
no  one  seemed  to  need  a  path, .  .  .  but  on 
the  mountain  to  go  without  a  guide  seemed 
hopeless.  Those  who  went  first  left  traces 
to  serve  as  guides  for  those  coming  after. 
Some  put  marks  on  the  trees ;  some  built 
little  cairns  of  stones  to  show  the  way  they 
had  taken  in  going  around  great  rocks. 
Those  who  followed  found  these  marks 
and  added  to  them.  And  many  of  the 
travellers  left  little  charts  which  showed 
where  the  cliffs  and  chasms  were,  and  by 
what  means  one  could  reach  the  hidden 
springs.  So  in  time  it  came  to  pass  that 
there  was  scarcely  a  tree  on  the  mountain 
which  bore  not  some  traveller's  mark; 
there  was  scarcely  a  rock  that  had  not  a 
cairn  of  stones  upon  it* 

In  early  times  there  was  One  who  came 
up  from  the  sea  and  made  the  journey 
over  the  mountain  and  across  the  desert 
by  a  way  so  fair  that  the  memory  of  it 
became  a  part  of  the  story  of  the  forest. 


Men  spoke  to  one  another  of  his  way,  and 
many  wished  to  find  it  out,  that  haply  they 
might  walk  therein.  He,  too,  had  left  a 
Chart,  which  those  who  followed  him  had 
carefully  kept,  and  from  which  they  had 
drawn  help  in  many  times  of  need. 

The  way  he  went  was  not  the  shortest 
way,  nor  was  it  the  easiest.  The  ways 
that  are  short  and  easy  lead  not  over  the 
mountain.  But  his  was  the  most  repaying 
way.  It  led  by  the  noblest  trees,  the  fairest 
outlooks,  the  sweetest  springs,  the  greenest 
pastures,  and  the  shadow  of  great  rocks  in 
the  desert.  It  was  as  if  the  breath  of  the 
fresh  blooming  meadows  followed  one  all 
the  way  through  the  forest.  And  the  chart 
of  his  way  which  he  left  was  very  simple 
and  very  plain,  —  easy  to  understand. 
Even  a  child  might  use  it.  And  indeed 
there  were  many  children  who  did  so. 

On  this  chart  were  the  chief  landmarks 
of  the  region, — the  mountain  with  its  forest, 
the  desert  with  its  green  oases,  the  flower- 
carpeted  pastures  of  the  high  lands,  the 
paths  to  the  hidden  springs.  But  there 
were  not  many  details.  The  old  cairns 


were  not  marked  upon  it ;  and  when  two 
paths  led  alike  over  the  mountain,  there 
was  no  sign  to  show  that  one  was  to  be 
taken  rather  than  the  other.  Not  much 
was  said  as  to  what  food  one  should  take, 
or  what  raiment  one  should  wear,  or  by 
what  means  one  should  defend  himself. 
But  there  were  many  simple  directions  as 
to  how  one  should  act  on  the  road,  and  by 
what  signs  he  should  know  the  right  path. 
One  ought  to  look  upward,  and  not  down- 
ward ;  to  look  forward,  and  not  backward ; 
to  be  always  ready  to  give  a  helping  hand 
to  his  neighbor:  and  whomsoever  one 
meets  is  one's  neighbor,  he  said. 

As  to  the  desert,  one  need  not  dread  it ; 
nor  should  one  fear  the  river,  for  the  lands 
beyond  it  were  sweet  and  fair.  Moreover, 
one  should  learn  to  know  the  forest,  that 
he  might  choose  his  course  wisely.  And 
this  knowledge  each  one  should  seek  for 
himself.  For,  as  he  said,  "If  the  blind  lead 
the  blind,  both  shall  fall  into  the  ditch/' 

There  were  many  who  followed  his 
way  and  gave  heed  to  his  precepts.  The 
path  seemed  dangerous  at  times,  especially 


at  the  outset;  for  it  lay  along  dizzy  heights, 
through  tangled  underwood,  and  across 
swollen  torrents.  But  after  a  while  all 
these  were  left  behind.  The  way  passed 
on  between  cleft  rocks,  into  green  pastures, 
and  by  still  waters ;  and  in  the  desert  were 
sweet  springs  which  gave  forth  abundantly, 
and  about  each  spring  the  flowers  sprang 
up  fast  in  their  season. 

But  some  who  tried  to  follow  him  said 
that  his  Chart  was  not  explicit  enough. 
Each  step  in  the  journey,  they  contended, 
should  be  laid  out  exactly;  for  to  travel 
safely  one  should  never  be  left  in  doubt. 

Now,  it  chanced  that  on  the  slope  of  the 
mountain  there  was  a  huge  granite  rock, 
which  stood  in  the  midst  of  the  way. 
Some  of  the  travellers  passed  to  the  right 
of  it,  while  others  turned  to  the  left. 
Strangely  enough,  the  Chart  said  noth- 
ing concerning  this  rock.  No  hint  was 
given  as  to  how  one  should  pass  by  it. 

When  they  came  to  the  rock,  many  of 
the  travellers  took  counsel  one  of  another, 
and  at  last  a  great  multitude  was  gathered 
there.  Which  way  had  he  taken  ?  For 


in  the  path  he  took  they  must  surely  go. 
Many  scanned  the  rock  on  every  side,  to 
find  if  haply  he  had  left  some  secret  mark 
upon  it.  But  they  found  none ;  or,  rather, 
no  one  could  convince  the  others  that  the 
hidden  marks  he  found  were  intended  for 
their  guidance. 

At  nightfall,  after  much  discussion,  the 
old  men  in  the  council  gave  their  decision. 
The  safe  way  led  to  the  right.  So  he 
who  kept  the  Chart  marked  upon  it  the 
place  of  the  rock,  and  he  wrote  upon  the 
Chart  that  the  one  true  path  leads  to 
the  right.  Henceforth  each  man  should 
know  the  way  he  must  go. 

Moreover,  those  who  bore  the  records 
showed  that  this  decision  was  justified. 
They  wrote  upon  the  Chart  a  long  argu- 
ment, chain  upon  chain  and  reason  upon 
reason,  to  prove  that  from  the  beginning 
it  was  decreed  that  this  rock  be  the  test 
of  the  destiny  of  every  man. 

But  in  spite  of  argument,  there  were 
still  some  who  chose  the  left-hand  path 
because  they  verily  believed  that  this  was 
the  only  right  way.  They,  too,  justified 


their  course  by  arguments,  line  upon  line 
and  precept  upon  precept.  And  each  band 
tried  to  make  its  following  as  large  as  it 
could.  Some  men  stood  all  day  by  the 
side  of  the  rock,  urging  people  to  come 
with  them  to  the  right  or  to  the  left.  For, 
strangely  enough,  although  each  man  had 
his  own  journey  to  make,  and  must  cross 
the  river  at  last  alone,  he  was  eager  that 
all  others  should  go  along  with  him. 

And  as  each  band  grew  larger,  its 
members  took  pride  in  the  growth  of  its 
numbers.  In  the  larger  bands,  trumpets 
were  blown,  harps  were  sounded,  and 
banners  were  waved  in  the  wind.  Those 
who  walked  shoulder  to  shoulder  under 
waving  flags,  to  the  sound  of  trumpets, 
felt  secure  and  confident,  while  those  who 
journeyed  alone  seemed  always  to  walk 
with  fear  and  trembling.  It  was  said  in 
the  old  Chart  that  where  two  or  three  were 
gathered  together  on  the  way,  strength 
and  courage  would  be  given  them.  But 
men  could  not  believe  this,  and  few  had 
the  heart  to  test  whether  it  were  true 
or  no. 


So  the  bands  went  on  to  the  right  or 
to  the  left,  each  in  its  chosen  path.  But 
after  they  had  passed  the  first  great  rock, 
they  came  to  other  rocks  and  trees  and 
places  of  doubt.  Other  councils  were 
held,  and  at  each  step  there  were  some 
who  would  not  abide  by  the  decision  of 
the  elders.  So  these  from  time  to  time 
went  their  own  ways.  And  they  made 
new  inscriptions  on  the  Chart,  and  erased 
the  old  ones,  each  according  to  his  own 
ideas.  And  there  was  much  pushing  and 
jostling  when  the  bands  separated  them- 
selves one  from  another. 

At  last  one  of  the  oldest  travellers  in 
the  largest  band  —  a  man  with  a  long 
white  beard,  and  wise  with  the  experience 
of  years  —  arose  and  said  that  not  in 
anger,  nor  in  strife,  should  they  journey 
on.  Discord  and  contention  arise  from 
difference  of  opinion.  Let  all  men  but 
think  alike,  and  they  will  walk  in  peace 
and  harmony.  Let  each  band  choose  a 
leader.  Let  him  carry  the  Chart,  and  let 
him  night  and  day  pore  over  its  precepts. 
No  one  else  need  distress  himself.  One 


had  only  to  keep  step  on  the  road,  and 
to  follow  whithersoever  the  leader  might 
direct. 

So  the  people  chose  a  leader,  —  a  man 
grave  and  serious,  wise  in  the  lore  of  the 
forest  and  the  desert.  He  noted  on  the 
Chart  each  rock  and  tree,  drawing  in 
sharp  outlines  every  detail  in  the  only 
safe  path.  Moreover,  all  deviating  trails 
he  marked  with  the  symbol  of  danger. 

And  it  came  to  pass  that  day  by  day 
other  bands  followed,  and  to  them  the 
Chart  was  given  as  he  had  left  it.  And 
these  bands,  too,  chose  leaders,  whose 
part  it  was  to  interpret  the  Chart.  But 
each  one  of  these  added  to  the  Chart 
some  better  way  of  his  own,  some  short 
cut  he  had  found,  or  some  new  trail  not 
marked  with  the  proper  sign  of  warning. 

And  with  all  these  changes  and  addi- 
tions, as  time  went  on,  the  true  way 
became  very  hard  to  find.  At  one  point, 
so  the  story  is  told,  there  were  twenty- 
nine  distinct  paths,  leading  in  as  many 
directions ;  each  of  these,  if  the  Chart  be 
true,  came  to  its  end  in  some  frightful 


chasm.  With  these  there  was  a  single 
narrow  trail  that  led  to  safety;  but  no 
two  leaders  could  agree  as  to  which  was 
the  right  trail.  One  thing  only  was 
certain:  the  true  way  was  very  hard  to 
find,  and  no  traveller  might  discover  it 
unaided. 

And  some  declared  that  the  Chart  was 
complicated  beyond  all  need.  There  was 
one  who  said,  "The  multiplication  of 
non-essentials  has  become  the  bane  of  the 
forest."  Even  a  little  meadow  which 
he  had  found,  and  which  he  called  the 
"  Saints'  Rest/'  was  so  entangled  in  paths 
and  counter-paths  that,  once  out  of  sight 
of  it,  one  could  never  find  it  again. 

All  this  time  there  were  many  bands 
that  wandered  about  in  circles,  finding 
everywhere  cairns  of  stones,  but  no  way 
of  escape.  Still  others  remained  day  after 
day  in  the  shadow  of  great  rocks,  disput- 
ing and  doubting  as  to  how  they  should 
pass  by  them.  There  were  arguments 
and  precedents  enough  for  any  course; 
but  arguments  and  precedents  made  no 
man  sure. 


And  it  came  to  pass  that  most  travellers 
followed  the  band  they  found  nearest.  At 
last,  to  join  some  band  became  their  only 
care ;  and  they  looked  with  pity  and  dis- 
trust upon  those  who  travelled  alone. 

But  the  bands  all  made  their  way  very 
slowly.  No  matter  how  wise  the  leader, 
not  all  were  ready  to  move  at  once,  and 
not  all  could  keep  step  to  the  sound  of 
even  the  slowest  trumpet.  There  was 
often  much  ado  at  nightfall  over  the  pitch- 
ing of  the  tents,  and  many  were  crowded 
out  into  the  forest.  At  times  also,  in  the 
presence  of  danger,  fear  spread  through 
the  band,  and  many  of  the  weaker  ones 
were  trampled  on  and  sorely  hurt. 

Then,  too,  as  they  passed  through  the 
rocky  defiles,  some  of  them  lost  sight  of 
the  banners,  and  then  the  others  would 
wait  for  them,  or  perchance  leave  them 
behind,  to  struggle  on  as  best  they  might 
without  chart  or  guide. 

And  there  were  those  who  spoke  in 
this  wise:  "Many  paths  lead  over  the 
mountain,  and  sooner  or  later  all  come 
to  the  desert  and  the  river.  It  does  not 


matter  where  we  walk;  the  question  is, 
How  ?  We  cannot  know  step  by  step  the 
way  he  went.  Let  us  walk  by  faith,  as 
he  walked.  If  our  spirit  is  like  his,  we 
shall  not  lack  for  guidance  when  we  come 
to  the  crossing  of  the  ways.."  And  so 
they  fared  on.  But  many  doubted  their 
own  promptings.  "Tell  me,  am  I  right  ?" 
each  one  asked  of  his  neighbor ;  and  his 
neighbor  asked  it  again  of  him.  And  those 
who  were  in  doubt  followed  those  who 
were  sure. 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  these  who  walked 
by  faith  likewise  gathered  themselves  into 
great  companies,  and  each  company  fol- 
lowed some  leader.  Some  of  these  leaders 
had  the  gift  of  woodcraft,  and  saw  clearly 
into  the  very  nature  of  things.  But  some 
were  only  headstrong,  and  these  proved  to 
be  but  blind  leaders  of  the  blind. 

Then  one  said,  "  We  must  not  be  filled 
with  our  own  conceit,  but  must  humbly 
imitate  him.  We  must  try  to  work  as  he 
worked ;  to  rest  as  he  rested ;  to  sleep  as 
he  slept.  The  deeds  we  do  should  be 
those  he  did,  and  those  only.  For  on  his 


Chart  he  has  told  us,  not  the  way  he  went 
past  rocks  and  trees,  but  the  actions  with 
which  his  days  were  filled/'  Then  those 
who  tried  to  do  as  he  had  donet  moved  by 
his  motives  and  acting  through  his  deeds, 
found  the  way  wonderfully  easy.  The 
days  and  the  hours  seemed  all  too  short 
for  the  joy  with  which  they  were  filled. 

But,  again,  there  were  many  who  said 
that  his  directions  were  not  explicit  enough. 
The  Chart  said  so  little.  "  That  we  may 
make  no  mistake,"  they  said,  "we  must 
gather  ourselves  in  bands  and  choose  lead- 
ers. We  cannot  act  as  he  acted  unless 
there  is  some  one  to  show  us  how." 

Thus  it  came  to  pass  that  leaders  were 
chosen  who  could  do  everything  that  he 
had  done,  in  all  respects,  according  to  his 
method.  And  they  added  to  the  Chart 
the  record  of  their  own  practices, — not 
only  that  "  He  did  thus  and  so,"  but  also, 
"Thus  and  so  he  did  not  do."  "Thus 
and  thus  did  he  eat  bread,  and  thus  only. 
Thus  and  thus  did  he  loose  his  sandals. 
In  this  way  only  gave  he  bread  and  wine. 
Here  on  the  way  he  fasted ;  there  he  feasted. 


At  this  turn  of  the  road  he  looked  upward 
thus,  shading  his  eyes  with  his  hand.  Here 
he  anointed  his  feet ;  there  his  face  wore  a 
sad  smile.  Such  was  the  cut  of  his  coat ; 
of  this  wood  was  his  staff ;  of  such  a  num- 
ber of  words  his  prayer/'  And  many  were 
comforted  in  the  thought  that  for  every  turn 
in  the  road  there  was  some  definite  thing 
which  he  had  done,  and  which  they,  too, 
might  perform. 

Thus  the  duties  of  every  moment  were 
fixed.  But  as  the  days  went  on  these 
duties  grew  more  and  more  difficult.  No 
one  had  time  to  look  at  the  rocks  or  trees ; 
no  one  could  cast  his  eyes  over  a  noble 
prospect;  no  one  could  stop  to  rest  by 
the  sweet  fountains  or  in  the  refreshing 
shadows.  One  could  hardly  give  a  mo- 
ment to  such  things,  lest  he  should  over- 
look some  needful  service. 

Then  many  lost  heart,  and  said  that 
surely  he  cared  not  for  times  and  observ- 
ances, else  he  would  have  said  more  about 
them.  When  he  made  the  journey,  it  was 
his  chief  reproach  that  he  heeded  not  these 
things.  With  him,  ceremony  or  observ- 


ance  rose  directly  out  of  the  need  for  it, 
each  one  as  the  need  was  felt.  To  imitate 
him  is  to  feel  as  he  felt.  With  him  feel- 
ings gave  rise  to  word  and  action.  "  So 
will  it  be  with  us.  It  is  not  for  us  to  imi- 
tate him  in  the  fashion  of  his  coat  or  the 
cut  of  his  beard.  He  went  over  the  road 
giving  help  and  comfort,  as  the  sun  gives 
light  or  the  flowers  shed  fragrance,  all  un- 
conscious of  the  good  he  did/'  And  in  this 
wise  did  many  imitate  him.  They  turned 
aside  the  boughs  of  the  trees,  that  the  sun- 
shine of  heaven  might  fall  upon  their  neigh- 
bors. And,  behold,  the  same  sunshine 
fell  upon  them  also.  They  removed  the 
stones  from  the  road,  that  others  might  not 
stumble  over  them;  and  others  removed 
the  stones  from  their  way  also. 

But  many  were  still  in  doubt  and  hesi- 
tation. The  record,  they  said,  was  not 
explicit  enough.  They  counselled  together, 
and  gathered  in  bands,  and  chose  leaders 
who  should  tell  them  how  to  feel.  And 
the  leaders  gave  close  heed  to  all  his  feel- 
ings and  to  the  times  and  seasons  proper 
to  each.  Here  he  was  joyous,  and  at  a 


signal  all  the  band  broke  into  merry 
laughter.  Here  he  was  stern,  and  the  mul- 
titude set  its  teeth.  There  he  wept,  and 
tears  fell  like  rain  from  innumerable  eyes. 

As  time  went  on,  repeated  action  made 
action  easy.  The  springs  of  feeling  were 
readily  troubled.  Still  each  one  felt,  or 
tried  to  feel,  all  that  he  should  have  felt. 
No  one  dared  admit  to  his  fellows  that 
his  tears  were  a  sham,  his  joy  a  pretence, 
his  sadness  a  lie.  But  often,  in  the  bottom 
of  their  hearts,  men  would  confess  with 
real  tears  that  they  had  no  genuine  feeling 
there. 

Then  the  people  asked  for  leaders  who 
could  bring  out  real  feelings.  And  there 
arose  leaders,  who  by  terrible  words  could 
fill  the  hearts  with  fear;  by  burning  words 
could  stir  the  embers  of  zeal ;  by  the  inten- 
sity of  their  own  passions  could  fill  the 
throng  with  pity,  with  sorrow,  or  with  in- 
dignation. And  the  multitude  hung  on 
their  lips ;  for  they  sought  for  feelings  real 
and  not  simulated* 

But  here  again  division  arose ;  for  not 
all  were  touched  alike  by  those  who  had 


power  over  the  hearts  of  men*  Some  fol- 
lowed the  leader  who  moved  them  to  tears; 
others  chose  him  who  filled  them  with  fear 
and  trembling.  Still  others  loved  to  linger 
in  the  dark  shadow  of  remorse.  Some 
said  that  right  emotions  were  roused  by 
loud  and  ringing  tones.  Some  said  that 
the  tones  should  be  sad  and  sweet. 

Then  there  were  some  who  said  that 
feelings  such  as  all  these  were  idle  and  com- 
mon. When  he  trod  the  way  of  old,  it 
was  with  radiant  eyes  and  with  uplifted 
heart.  He  saw  through  the  veil  of  clouds 
to  the  glory  which  lay  beyond*  We  follow 
him  best  when  we  too  are  uplifted.  Now 
and  then  on  the  way  come  to  us  moments 
of  exultation*  when  we  tread  in  his  very 
footsteps.  These  are  the  precious  mo- 
ments ;  then  our  way  is  his  way.  In  the 
rosy  mists  of  morning  we  may  behold  the 
glory  which  encompassed  him.  In  mo- 
ments of  silent  communion  in  the  forest 
we  may  feel  his  peace  steal  over  us.  In 
the  lilies  of  the  field  we  find  the  perfection 
of  his  raiment.  In  the  gentle  rain  that  falls 
upon  the  just  and  the  unjust  we  may  know 


the  soft  pity  of  his  tears.  When  the  sun 
declines,  its  last  rays  touch  with  gold  the 
far-off  mountain-tops  beyond  the  great 
river. 

And  the  uplifting  of  great  moments,  fill- 
ing the  souls  of  men  with  peace  that  passeth 
understanding,  came  to  many.  As  they 
went  their  way,  this  peace  fell  upon  their 
neighbors  also.  And  no  man  did  aught 
to  make  them  afraid.  And  others  sought 
to  go  with  these,  and  thus  they  became  a 
great  band. 

So  they  chose  as  their  leaders  those 
whose  visions  were  brightest.  And  they 
made  for  themselves  a  banner  like  the 
white  mist  flung  out  from  the  mountain- 
tops  at  the  rising  of  the  sun.  They  spoke 
much  to  one  another  concerning  the  white 
banner  and  the  peace  which  filled  their 
souls. 

But  as  they  journeyed  along,  the  dust  of 
the  way  dimmed  the  banner,  and  the  bright 
visions  one  by  one  faded  away.  At  last 
they  came  no  more. 

Then  the  people  murmured  and  called 
upon  the  leaders  to  grant  them  some 


brighter  vision,  something  that  all  could 
see  and  feel  at  once,  —  some  sign  by  which 
they  might  know  that  they  were  still  in 
his  way.  "  Cause  that  a  path  be  opened 
through  the  thicket/'  they  said,  "  and  let 
a  white  dove  come  forth  to  lead  us  on ;  or 
let  the  mists  beyond  the  river  part  for  a 
moment,  that  we  may  behold  the  far 
country  beyond/' 

And  one  of  the  leaders  standing  at  the 
head  of  the  column,  clothed  in  the  morn- 
ing light  as  with  a  garment,  raised  his 
staff  high  in  the  air.  The  sun's  rays 
fell  upon  it,  touching  the  morning  mists 
with  gold,  and  threw  across  them  the 
long  shadow  of  the  upraised  staff.  The 
shadow  fell  far  out  across  the  plains,  and 
about  it  was  a  halo  of  bright  light.  And 
all  the  band  looked  joyfully  at  the  vision. 
Adown  the  slope  of  the  mountain  and 
out  into  the  plain  they  followed  the  way 
of  the  shadow.  And  all  the  time  the 
white  banner  waved  at  the  head  of  the 
column.  The  people  said  little  to  one 
another,  but  that  little  was  a  word  of 
praise  and  rejoicing. 


But  it  came  to  pass,  as  the  day  wore  on, 
that  the  sun  rose  in  the  sky,  and  drew  the 
mists  up  from  the  valley.  With  them 
vanished  the  long  shadow  of  the  staff,  and 
in  its  place  appeared  the  sandy  plain.  The 
feet  of  the  people  were  sore  with  the  rocks 
and  stones.  The  air  was  thick  with  dust. 
Their  hearts  were  uplifted  no  longer.  In- 
stead they  were  filled  with  doubt  and 
distress. 

And  the  people  repined  and  murmured 
against  their  leader.  But  the  leader  said 
that  all  was  well;  even  in  the  way  he 
went  there  had  been  stones  and  hindrances. 
More  than  once  had  he  carried  a  heavy 
burden  along  a  dusty  road.  But  he  never 
doubted  nor  complained,  and  so  the  radi- 
ance round  about  him  never  faded  away. 

But  all  the  more  the  people  clamored  for 
a  sign.  "  Let  the  bright  vision  of  the 
morning  appear  to  us  again."  At  length, 
worn  with  much  entreaty,  the  leader 
raised  once  more  his  staff  above  his  head. 
The  sun  at  noon  fell  upon  it.  But  as  the 
people  gazed  they  saw  no  long  line  of 
radiance  stretching  out  across  the  plains 


amid  a  halo  of  shining  mist*  The 
shadow  of  the  staff  was  a  little  shapeless 
mark  upon  the  sand  at  their  very  feet. 

Then  the  leader  cast  his  staff  away  and 
went  by  himself  alone,  sad  and  sorrowful. 
That  night,  as  he  lay  by  the  roadside, 
he  looked  upward  to  the  clear,  calm, 
honest  stars.  They  seemed  to  say  to 
him,  "See  all  things  as  they  really  are. 
This  was  his  way.  'In  spirit  and  in 
truth '  means  in  the  light  of  no  illusion. 
Not  all  the  visions  of  mist  or  of  sun- 
shine can  make  the  journey  other  than 
it  is." 

So  he  came  to  look  closely  at  all  things 
on  the  road.  Day  by  day  he  read  the 
lessons  of  the  desert  and  the  mountain. 
He  learned  to  know  directions  by  the 
growth  of  the  trees.  By  the  perfume  of 
the  lilies  he  sought  out  the  hidden  springs. 
By  the  red  clouds  at  evening  he  knew  that 
the  sky  would  be  fair.  By  the  red  light  in 
the  morning  he  was  warned  of  the  coming 
storm.  And  there  were  many  who  fol- 
lowed him  and  his  way,  though  he  did  not 
will  it  so. 


And  he  taught  his  companions,  saying : 
"  We  must  seek  his  way  in  the  nature  of 
the  things  that  abide.  To  learn  this  nature 
of  things  is  the  beginning  of  wisdom.  For 
day  unto  day  uttereth  speech,  and  night 
unto  night  showeth  knowledge.  The  way 
of  nature  is  solid,  substantial,  vast,  and  un- 
changing. He  who  walks  in  it  stands 
secure,  as  in  the  shadow  of  a  high  tower 
or  as  if  encompassed  by  a  mighty  fortress. 
The  wisdom  of  the  forest  shall  be  granted 
to  him  who  seeks  for  it  with  calm  heart 
and  quiet  eye/' 

But  among  his  followers  there  were 
many  who  were  eager  and  would  hasten 
on,  and  although  they  spoke  much  of  the 
Nature  of  Things  and  of  the  Law  of  the 
Forest,  they  were  contented  with  speaking. 
"The  road  is  long,"  they  said  to  them- 
selves, "  and  the  hours  are  fleeting."  They 
had  no  time  to  contemplate  the  glory  of 
the  heavens.  The  beauty  of  the  lilies  fell 
on  unobservant  eyes.  For  all  these  things 
they  trusted  to  the  report  of  others.  The 
words  passed  from  mouth  to  mouth,  losing 
ever  a  little  of  their  truth.  And  in  this 


wise  the  voice  of  wisdom  was  turned  to 
the  language  of  folly.  For  the  nature  of 
things  is  truth.  But  no  man  can  find  truth 
except  he  seek  it  for  himself.  And  so  they 
fared  on,  each  well  or  ill,  according  to  the 
truth  to  which  his  way  bore  witness. 

Meanwhile  those  who  bore  the  white 
banner  remained  long  in  council.  At  last 
one  remembered  that  it  was  written,  "Faith 
without  works  is  dead,  being  alone/'  And 
it  was  written  again, "  Those  who  follow 
me  in  spirit  must  follow  me  in  spirit  and 
in  truth."  The  essence  of  truth  lies  not 
in  thought  or  feeling,  but  must  be  ex- 
pressed in  deeds.  Right  feelings  follow 
right  actions.  Thus  it  was  with  him;  thus 
will  it  be  with  us. 

Then  they  went  their  way  together, 
doing  good  to  one  another.  And  each 
called  his  neighbor  "brother;"  and  some 
bore  cups  of  cold  water,  and  some  balm  for 
healing;  some  carried  oil  and  wine  and  pots 
of  precious  ointment.  To  whomsoever 
they  met  they  gave  help  and  comfort.  The 
hungry  they  fed.  The  thirsty  were  given 
drink.  He  who  had  fallen  by  the  wayside 


was  lifted  up  and  strengthened,  and  the 
blessing  of  cleanliness  was  brought  to  him 
who  lay  in  filth  and  shame.  The  blessing 
of  him  that  was  ready  to  perish  came  upon 
them,  and  the  heart  of  the  widow  sang  for 

joy- 
But  soon  those  who  were  filled  with  zeal 
for  good  works  were  gathered  together  in 
great  bands,  and  each  band  wished  to 
magnify  its  work.  In  every  way,  to  all 
men  who  asked,  help  was  given.  They 
searched  out  the  lame  and  the  blind,  and 
brought  them,  that  they  might  perforce  be 
healed.  Cup  after  cup  of  cold  water  was 
given  to  the  little  ones,  even  to  those  who 
might  bring  water  for  themselves.  They 
cared  for  the  wounded  wayfarer  long  after 
his  wounds  were  made  whole.  It  was 
their  joy  to  bathe  his  limbs  in  oil  and  wine, 
or  to  swathe  them  in  fragrant  bands.  And 
the  wayfarer  ceased  to  bear  his  own  tent 
or  to  seek  his  own  raiment.  What  others 
would  do  for  him,  he  need  not  do  for 
himself.  And  those  who  did  not  help 
themselves  lost  the  power  of  self-help. 
And  those  who  had  helped  others  over- 


much  came  themselves  to  need  the  help 
of  others. 

At  last  the  number  of  the  helpless  be- 
came so  great  that  there  was  no  one  to 
serve  them.  Many  waited  day  after  day 
for  the  aid  that  never  came,  and  they  grew 
so  weak  with  waiting  that  they  could  not 
take  up  their  burdens.  The  little  ones 
were  thrust  aside  by  the  strong,  and  as  the 
band  went  on  many  of  them  were  forgotten 
and  left  behind.  They  fainted  and  fell  by 
the  healing  springs,  because  there  was  no 
one  to  give  them  drink,  and  they  could  not 
help  themselves. 

And  the  burden  of  the  way  grew  very 
hard  and  grievous  to  bear.  Then  there 
were  those  who  said  that  one  cannot  help 
another  save  by  leading  him  to  help  him- 
self. All  that  is  given  him  must  he  repay. 
Sooner  or  later  each  must  bear  his  own 
burden.  Each  must  make  his  own  way 
through  the  forest  in  such  manner  as  he 
may. 

So  they  turned  back  to  the  old  Chart. 
They  would  read  his  words  again,  that 
they  might  be  led  to  better  deeds.  In 


these  words  they  found  help  and  cheer. 
These  words  spake  they  one  to  another. 
They  came  like  rain  to  a  thirsty  field,  or 
as  balm  to  a  wound,  or  as  good  news 
from  a  far  country.  And  there  was  won- 
derful consolation  in  the  thought  that  for 
every  step  of  the  way  he  had  spoken  the 
right  word. 

So  those  who  knew  his  words  best  were 
chosen  as  leaders,  and  great  companies  fol- 
lowed them.  And  as  band  after  band 
passed  along,  his  message  sounded  from 
one  to  another.  His  words  were  ever  on 
their  lips.  Those  who  could  run  swiftly 
carried  them  far  and  wide,  even  into  the 
depths  of  the  forest.  To  those  who  were 
in  sorrow  they  came  as  glad  tidings  of 
great  joy,  and  beautiful  upon  the  moun- 
tains seemed  the  feet  of  those  who  bore 
them.  Wherever  men  were  weary  and 
heavy-laden,  they  were  cheered  by  his 
promise  of  rest. 

But  there  were  some  who  turned  to  his 
message  only  to  gratify  sordid  hopes  or 
vain  desires.  He  who  was  lazy  sought 
warrant  for  sleep.  He  who  was  covetous 


looked  for  gain.  He  who  was  filled  with 
anger  sought  promise  of  vengeance.  There 
were  many  who  repeated  his  words  for  the 
mere  words'  sake.  And  there  were  some 
who  used  them  in  disputations  about  the 
way.  And  the  words  of  help  on  the  Chart 
they  turned  into  words  of  command.  Each 
one  took  these  commands  not  to  himself 
alone,  but  sought  to  enforce  them  upon 
others*  "  For  it  is  our  duty/'  they  said, 
44  to  see  that  no  word  of  his  shall  be  un- 
heeded of  any  man."  And  many  rose  in 
resistance.  And  the  conflicts  on  the  way 
were  fierce  and  strong;  for  with  each 
different  band  there  was  diversity  of  inter- 
pretation. Thus  the  words  of  kindness 
became  the  voice  of  hate. 

And  it  came  to  pass  that  all  along  the 
way  the  green  sward  was  red  with  the 
blood  of  wayfarers.  Everywhere  the  leaves 
of  the  forest  were  trampled  by  struggling 
hosts.  And  "  In  his  name  "  was  the  watch- 
word of  each  warring  band.  And  each 
band  called  itself  4<  his  army."  And  who- 
soever bore  the  sword  that  was  reddest, 
they  called  the  "Defender  of  the  Faith." 


They  placed  his  name  upon  their  battle- 
flags,  and  beneath  it  they  wrote  these  fear- 
ful words,  "In  this  sign  conquer/'  And 
each  went  forth  to  conquer  his  neighbor, 
and  the  wayfarer  fled  from  the  sight  of 
their  banners  as  from  a  pestilence.  But 
"  Conquer,  conquer/'  was  no  word  of  his. 
He  spoke  not  of  victory  over  others;  only 
of  conquest  of  oneself.  He  had  said,  "  Re- 
sist not,  but  overcome  evil  with  good/' 
And  till  all  men  ceased  to  resist  and  ceased 
to  conquer,  no  one  found  himself  in  the 
right  way.  Then  some  one  said:  "By 
words  alone  can  no  one  truly  follow  him. 
His  words  without  his  faith  and  love  are 
like  sounding  brass  or  tinkling  cymbal. 
Out  of  the  abundance  of  the  heart  the 
mouth  speaketh.  When  the  heart  is 
empty,  the  speech  of  the  mouth  is  idle  as 
the  crackling  of  thorns  beneath  a  pot/' 

And  there  appeared  other  bands  from 
the  number  of  those  who  had  passed  to  the 
right  of  the  first  great  rock ;  and  seeing  the 
tumult  and  confusion  of  the  others,  they 
said  to  themselves:  "These  are  they  who 
followed  not  us.  We  have  chosen  the 


better  part.  Our  leader  bears  the  only 
perfect  Chart.  All  other  charts  are  the 
invention  of  men.  In  the  right  Chart  there 
can  be  nothing  false;  in  the  others  there 
can  be  nothing  true.  Those  who  have  not 
the  true  Chart  can  never  go  right,  not  even 
for  a  moment.  For  even  good  deeds  done 
in  the  paths  of  evil  must  partake  of  the 
nature  of  sin.  Straight  is  the  way  and 
narrow  is  the  gate,  but  there  is  no  safety 
except  ye  walk  therein." 

So  they  went  on,  stumbling  ever  along 
the  rocky  road,  never  resting,  never  mur- 
muring. "  For  the  way  at  best  is  a  vale 
of  tears,"  said  they,  "  and  no  one  would 
have  it  otherwise.  He  found  it  thus  in 
his  time.  He  was  ever  a  man  of  sorrows 
and  acquainted  with  grief.  More  than  all 
others  had  he  suffered.  It  was  his  glory 
to  be  despised  and  rejected  of  men.  For 
the  greater  the  abasement,  the  greater  the 
exaltation  in  the  land  beyond  the  river." 
So  day  by  day  they  walked  in  the  hardest 
part  of  the  road.  But  they  spoke  often 
together  of  a  land  of  pure  delight,  of  sweet 
fields  beyond  the  swelling  floods,  and  of 


turf  soft  as  velvet  that  rose  from  the  river's 
bank. 

If  perchance  on  the  way  they  came  to 
green  pastures,  they  would  hasten  on,  lest 
they  should  be  tempted  to  rest  before  the 
day  of  rest  was  come.  From  sweet  springs 
they  turned  aside,  that  theirs  might  be  the 
greater  satisfaction  when  they  came  to  the 
sweetest  springs  of  all.  They  shut  their 
eyes  to  beauty  and  their  ears  to  music, 
that  the  light  and  music  of  the  unknown 
shore  might  burst  upon  them  as  a  sudden 
revelation.  They  looked  not  at  the  stars, 
lest  perchance  these  should  declare  a  glory 
which  was  reserved  for  the  land  beyond 
the  river.  Dreary  and  harsh  was  the  way 
they  trod.  But  in  its  very  dreariness  they 
found  safety.  They  sought  no  pleasure, 
they  fought  no  battles,  they  wasted  no 
time.  In  the  pushing  aside  of  all  tempta- 
tion, the  scorn  of  all  beauty  and  idleness, 
they  found  delight.  Against  the  strength 
of  granite  rock  they  set  the  force  of  iron 
will.  Withal,  at  the  bottom  their  hearts 
were  light  with  the  certainty  of  coming  joy. 
Even  the  multitude  of  conflicting  paths 


gave  them  a  peculiar  satisfaction;  for  what- 
ever way  they  took  was  always  the  right 
way. 

But  there  were  some  among  them  who 
lost  all  heart.  And  they  threw  their  charts 
away  and  set  forth  in  disorder  through  the 
forest  and  up  the  mountain.  Some  of  them 
came  safely  to  the  river,  far  in  advance  of 
the  bands  they  had  left  behind.  But  to 
most  the  way  was  strange,  and  harder 
than  of  old.  And  as  the  journey  wore  on 
they  began  to  hate  the  forest  and  all  its 
ways. 

So  they  fared  on,  together  or  apart,  in 
ever-deepening  shadow.  They  distrusted 
their  neighbors.  They  despised  the  joyous 
bands  who  trooped  after  their  leaders  with 
mouthing  of  verses  and  waving  of  flags. 
They  were  stirred  by  the  sound  of  no 
trumpet.  They  were  deceived  by  no  illu- 
sion of  sunshine  or  of  mist.  They  said: 
"We  know  the  forest;  no  one  knows  it 
but  ourselves.  There  is  no  future;  there 
is  no  way;  there  is  no  rest ;  there  is  no  bet- 
ter country.  The  azure  mists  are  shadows 
only,  hiding  some  dreary  plain,  if  haply 


they  hide  anything  at  all.  Evil  is  man; 
evil  arc  all  things  about  him.  Love  and 
joy,  hope  and  faith,  all  these  are  but  flick- 
ering lights  that  lure  him  to  destruction. 
Vultures  croak  on  the  rocks.  The  foun- 
tains flow  with  ink.  Danger  lurks  in  the 
desert.  The  name  of  the  river  is  Death." 
And  when  they  came  to  the  shore  of 
the  river  they  saw  no  rift  in  the  clouds 
above  it,  for  their  eyes  were  filled  with 
gloom. 

But  as  time  passed  on,  the  way  of  man 
grew  brighter,  whether  he  would  or  no. 
No  day  or  hour  was  without  its  joy  to 
him  who  opened  his  heart  to  receive  it. 
And  men  saw  that  most  of  the  difficulties 
and  dangers  of  the  way  were  those  which 
they  unwittingly  had  made  for  themselves 
or  for  others.  Thus,  as  the  road  became 
more  secure,  it  no  longer  seemed  dreary  or 
lonely. 

And  so  it  came  to  pass  at  last  that  men 
ceased  to  gather  themselves  in  great  bands. 
Nor  did  they  longer  set  store  on  the  sound 
of  trumpets  or  the  waving  of  flags.  The 
men  who  were  wisest  ceased  to  be  leaders 


of  hosts.  They  became  teachers  and  help- 
ers instead. 

And  with  all  this  a  sure  way  was  from 
day  to  day  not  hard  to  find.  Men  fell  into 
it  naturally  and  unconsciously.  And  the 
ways  which  are  safe  are  innumerable  as 
the  multitude  of  those  that  may  walk 
therein.  In  my  Father's  house,  so  the 
Chart  said,  there  are  many  mansions,  and 
each  mansion  has  its  different  setting,  and 
diverse  are  the  paths  which  lead  to  it. 

And  those  who  had  gone  by  devious 
ways  came  from  time  to  time  together. 
Each  praised  the  charms  of  the  path  he 
had  taken,  but  each  one  knew  that  in  other 
paths  other  men  found  as  great  delight. 
And  as  time  went  on  many  wise  men 
passed  over  the  way,  and  each  in  his  own 
fashion  left  a  record  of  all  that  had  come  to 
him. 

But  the  old  Chart  men  kept  in  ever- 
increasing  reverence.  They  found  that  its 
simple,  honest  words  were  words  of  truth, 
and  whoso  sought  for  truth  gained  with  it 
courage  and  strength.  But  they  covered 
it  no  longer  with  their  own  additions  and 


interpretations.  Nor  did  any  one  insist 
that  what  he  found  helpful  to  himself  should 
be  law  unto  others.  No  longer  did  men 
say  to  one  another,  "This  path  have  I 
taken;  this  way  must  thou  go." 

And  some  one  wrote  upon  the  Chart 
this  single  rule  of  the  forest :  "Choose  thou 
thine  own  best  way,  and  help  thy  neigh- 
bor to  find  that  way  which  for  him  is 
best."  But  this  was  erased  at  last;  for 
beneath  it  they  found  the  older,  plainer 
words  which  One  in  earlier  times  had 
written  there,  "  Thy  neighbor  as  thyself" 


Men  told  me,  Lord,  it  was  a.  vale  of  tears 
Where  Thou  hast  placed  me,  wickedness  and  woe 
My  twain  companions  whereso  I  might  go; 
That  I  through  ten  and  threescore  <weary  years 
Should  stumble  on  beset  by  pains  and  fears. 
Fierce  conflict  round  me,  passions  hot  'within, 
Enjoyment  brief  and  fatal  but  in  sin. 
When  ail  was  ended  then  should  I  demand 
Full  compensation  from  thine  austere  hand; 
For,  't  is  thy  pleasure,  all  temptation  past, 
To  be  not  just  but  generous  at  last. 

Lord,  here  am  I,  my  threescore  years  and  ten 

All  counted  to  the  full;  I've  fought  thy  fight, 

Crossed  thy  dark  valleys,  scaled  thy  rocks'  harsh  height, 

Borne  all  the  burdens  Thou  dost  lay  on  men 

With  hand  unsparing  threescore  years  and  ten. 

Before  Thee  now  I  make  my  claim,  0  Lord, — 

What  shall  I  pray  Thee  as  a  meet  reward? 

I  ask  for  nothing.    Let  the  balance  fall! 

All  that  I  am  or  know  or  may  confess 

But  swells  the  -weight  of  mine  indebtedness; 

Burdens  and  sorrows  stand  transfigured  all ; 

Thy  hand's  rude  buffet  turns  to  a  caress, 

For  Love,  with  all  the  rest,  Thou  gavest  me  here, 

And  Love  is  Heaven's  very  atmosphere. 

Lo,  I  have  dwelt  with  Thee,  Lord.    Let  me  die. 

I  could  no  more  through  all  eternity. 


LIBRARY 

"University  of  California' 

IRVINF 


OCT  24  1985 


